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Saturday, December 22, 2007

What good is a love affair...

As of yesterday, I am 1cm dilated and not at all effaced. In other words, for the uninitiated, I am just this side of looking (internally, at least) exactly as I would look if I were not more than 9 months pregnant. In still other words, we have made no progress: there is no dropping, no "lightening" (a very Victorian-sounding term to me), no stations to speak of, no nothing.

Dang it.

Because let me tell you how tired I am of being pregnant: very. Very very very. Some people say each new trimester has its own unique joys. Those people are smoking crack, unless by "joys" they mean "new and not-at-all-exciting indignities and pain." If that's what they mean, then they are right on the money. Third trimester concerns include random pain (NOT Braxton Hicks or false contractions, sadly), inability to sleep at all, even more constant running to the restroom (I have become one of those people who checks out all routes to and from public bathrooms as soon as I enter any new space), and constant breathlessness. Oh, and I can't get up off the couch sometimes, depending on whether my stomach muscles have decided to give out for the day or not.

However, the good news is the baby is doing fine. He's very happy in there, notes my doctor, as we can tell by his heart rate, which is strong and even and then surges upward every once in a while when he moves and stretches. And I am grateful for this, of course, but wouldn't he be happier out here??? Pretty please?